


The (Sanders) Crown

by Ericthometer



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Royalty, British Empire, Drinking, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ericthometer/pseuds/Ericthometer
Summary: Thomas Sanders I, King of the United Kingdom and the Dominions of the British Commonwealth and Emperor of India, has sat happily on the English throne for many years. His two sons, Crown Prince Roman Sanders I and Prince Patton Sanders I, live with the family happily, spending their days in Clarence House and away from the prying eyes of the government. Roman is in line for the throne, and King Thomas appears ready to abdicate. What may complicate matters is that Roman fancies the American ambassador, Mr. Virgil Storm.Loosely based on the Netflix Series "The Crown," and the King Edward VIII Abdication Crisis.





	1. The Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winston Churchill has seen the country through the Second World War, immensely popular and slated to win the next general election. However he is growing older, and his health is failing. The government supports a younger, more dynamic PM, and lies in wait for his resignation.

"By the Grace of God, Thomas I, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas King, Defender of the Faith, Emperor of India. Dei Gratia Magnae Britanniae, Hiberniae et terrarum transmarinarum quae in ditione sunt Britannica Rex, Fidei Defensor, Indiae Imperator. Rise, King Thomas Sanders the First." The sound of chirping from outside Thomas's window woke him, the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains and warming his face. He stretched, his back popping a couple of times before sitting up and silently yawning.  
"Good morning, Your Majesty." A smartly-dressed man in black-and-white formal attire, the stood with his hands held behind his back, greeting Thomas as he opened his bedroom door and walked into the hall. The King's Royal Guardsmen standing on either side if the door nodded as the King walked by, returning the gesture politely.  
"Would you like your breakfast brought to you?"  
"No, I'd like it to be brought out to the dining table, please."  
"Of course, Your Grace. Shall I ask for your sons?"  
"When it's ready."  
"The kitchen staff already has it prepared, it should be set out in a moment."  
"Excellent."

Prince Roman grasped the handle of the sabre, pushing forward with a quick swipe. "Fente!" The instructor took a defensive stance, the blade catching Roman's thrust. "Parer." He took a step forward, the force of the blade moving back against Roman. "Remise." The blade swung at him several times, though with some effort was parried each time. Roman seized the opportunity.  
"Tu es exposé! Riposte!" He made a quick lunge, countering the instructor's attack and forcing him back a step.  
"Your Highness." The suited man entered as the guardsmen opened the door.  
"Arrêtez." Roman said, both lowering their weapons. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Highness, but breakfast is ready and set out in the dining room." He frowned before turning back to the instructor.  
"Pardon, monsieur. Demain?"  
"Oui." The instructor bowed and collected the equipment.  
"I'll be there in a second, give me a moment to wash up, will you?"  
"Yes, my Prince."

The Royal Family sat at the dining room table as breakfast was brought out, the table empty except for the Princes and King. The rest of the extended family had moved a few days prior to Sandringham for a short holiday, so Clarence House was quiet. King Thomas sat at the head of the table, naturally, with Crown Prince Roman to his right and Prince Patton to his left. Thomas wore his usual around-the-house attire, a brass-buttoned black suit with yellow-gold stripes around the cuffs, a white formal polo underneath, with a black tie, black slacks, and polished dress shoes. Prince Roman wore a much brighter suit, white with a red tie and shoulder tassels, with similar dress slacks and polished dress boots. Prince Patton wore a modest grey suit with a light blue tie and thin, gold-rimmed round glasses.  
"Is there any news about the Prime Minister, Papa?" He asked.  
"I don't think so, haven't heard anything from him in a few days, actually. Why do you ask?"  
"Just curious. I heard on the radio that he might resign."  
Thomas was silent for a moment before returning to his breakfast. "I doubt that. Winston is... should I say, aged, but it would take a lot to get him to step down. That and he wouldn't stand for Mr. Eden to take the premiership, you know how Parliament is. The three shook their heads.  
"I heard Mr. DeWitt might become deputy PM." Roman tapped the table absently.  
"When Anthony drops off, perhaps."  
"Roman." Thomas made a stern face, though it was accurate. "The Deputy Prime Minister is... not necessarily as equipped for leadership as Mr. Churchill, per se, but as long as he is willing to accept direction from the sovereign, there should be no problem."  
"I don't suppose you would find Mr. DeWitt unamenable, Roman?" Patton interjected.  
"I understand that you and Mr. DeWitt are on friendly terms, Patton, but you know very well why I'm biased in Anthony's favor."  
"You only dislike Logan because he didn't laugh during your speech."  
"It was my first speech, it was supposed to make a good impression."  
"Don't raise your voice at the dining table, Roman, it's too early for that." Thomas rubbed his temple.  
"I'm sorry, Father." Roman blinked a couple of times, recomposing and turning back to Patton. "At any rate, you certainly hit it off with him. Useful to have political allies, I suppose."  
"My friendship with Mr. DeWitt is cordial, but it's only personal. I wouldn't extort him for political favours, if that's what you're suggesting."  
"Not suggesting, only implying." Roman took a sip from his glass.  
"That's enough, both of you." Thomas finished, frowning.  
"I would have hoped either of you were slightly more accommodating by now, but I suppose not. You are Princes, for God's sake, act like it. Excuse me." He stood, heading for his office and passing by his private secretary. "Could you get me the headache tablets, please?" He muttered.

"Late this morning Prime Minister Winston Churchill has announced his resignation to the Cabinet, which has notified both Parliament and the BBC. The press has been unable to gather much detail on the official resignation, but more information is likely to surface as it has just recently been made public. Though it would ostensibly be the result of private turmoil or political controversy, Mr. Churchill has cited his health as the primary issue. It would seem as though the former PM's condition has declined to where he would be unfit to lead, especially considering the notice was delivered by writing. The Palace has not made any comment as of yet on the situation. As for the state of the premiership, the Cabinet appears divided between the acting Deputy PM, Mr. Eden, or his party rival Mr. DeWitt for the seat. It will likely be slated for a vote among the Cabinet members, if not Parliament. Stay tuned for further developments."


	2. Mr. DeWitt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan DeWitt, the Party Rival of Deputy PM Anthony Eden and intellectual successor of Mr. Churchill, has been elected by popular vote of the Cabinet to the premiership. Winston's supporters have rallied behind Prime Minister DeWitt, but unrest grows in Parliament.

"It appears as though the acting Prime Minister's resignation..." The man set the letter down on the table, standing. "...signals the occasion for the Deputy PM's ascension to the position, with the sovereign's blessing. In the matter of the Cabinet, on behalf of the Conservative Party, Mr. Anthony Eden shall henceforth be the new PM-"  
"Terribly sorry to interrupt, Mr. Speaker." Another man stood, unapologetic, with his hands touching the table. "But although the assumed and traditional means of assigning the ministerial position would, under normal circumstances, follow under due course-" Mr. Eden fumed, clenching his fists.  
"With all due respect, the Prime Minister's resignation is hardly an excuse to delay my ascension to the premiership. I am Deputy PM and as such I am the rightful Prime Minister by Constitutional law."  
"The premier is to be assigned by the Cabinet and approved by the Crown. To be perfectly candid Mr. Eden, many Party members, including myself, feel that another would be more suitable for the position."  
"Then assign them to be Deputy PM. I have the premiership by right of tenure."  
"In technicality you are, by default, the standing PM, however in retrospect of your administration as Deputy many in the Party feel you are unequipped for the station. I motion a vote of no confidence-"  
"This is not Parliament, sir, you have no right!" The speaker cleared his throat loudly.  
"I will allow it. By whom, do you suggest, should replace Mr. Eden?"  
"Logan DeWitt." All eyes turned to Logan, whose face was slightly pink. He wore a dark blue tie and a black suit, with a pair of thick reading glasses and a lopsided smirk.  
"...Thank you gentlemen, but Mr. Eden is the rightful PM. I would rather not antagonize Party members, especially considering there is no constitutional precedent, to my knowledge."  
"Mr. DeWitt, I believe I speak for most of us here when I say you have the confidence of the Party loyalists." The man glared at Mr. Eden. "Not to mention Mr. Churchill's endorsement." Anthony stood.  
"Mr. Churchill no longer speaks for the party! He has resigned, his opinion holds no further weight." The Cabinet split into grumblings of approval and disapproval. An older gentleman hefted himself up shakily.  
"Winston Churchill led this country through crisis after crisis. Have we forgotten Normandy?" Murmurs echoed through the room. "Hm? Have we forgotten the Battle of Britain? I dare ask, what has Mr. Eden's previous administration done for this country other than embezzle the National Treasury and withhold War Bonds from our own citizens?"  
"How dare you?" Anthony raised his voice, slamming his fists and shaking the table.  
"Mr. Eden-"  
"Such accusations from within the Party itself! Sedition indeed. My administration used government funds to rebuild London after the firebombing! We have to hold onto the Bond money or suffer a major economic collapse! All Mr. Churchill did was shout about nonsense and the country followed him off a precipice into our current situation!"  
"Anthony." Logan stood, jaw set. "Do not disrespect Mr. Churchill's legacy. He was a strong man, a strong leader. If he were sitting in the Premier's seat right now, as you do, you would cower and 'follow blindly' as you always did. Preying on a sick man's career behind his closed doors, how dare you! I second the motion."  
"Third it." The older gentleman added. Several watched Mr. Eden indignantly. The Speaker raised his hands, settling the Cabinet.  
"I will allow the motion. Those in favour of Mr. Eden's promotion to the seat of Prime Minister?" A few of the Cabinet members raised their hands. "Very well. Those for the nomination of Mr. DeWitt for the position?" Most of the room raised their hands, some scattered "ayes" as well.  
"Support for Mr. DeWitt is clearly in the majority. With the popular support of the Cabinet, Mr. DeWitt is hereby nominated to the premiership, should the King accept. Mr. Eden shall retain the Deputy premiership."


	3. The Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Roman patch things up after their disagreement at breakfast.

Patton walked into the parlor, his heels audibly clicking on the glossy hardwood floor. He went up to Roman slowly, hands in his pockets.  
"Hey, Ro." Roman continued to read the unfolded stack of papers in his hands, a torn open envelope on the end table beside him.  
"Hi, Pat." He said, not looking up.  
"What are you reading?"  
"A letter."  
"Whom from?" Roman leafed to the other page.  
"Uncle Edward."  
"Ah." Patton sat down in the adjacent chair, awkwardly placing his arms on the armrests for lack of anything to do. "You two seem to be on good terms."  
"Yes... I supported him through that business with Wallis, if you remember."  
"I remember that well." He said, an unsavoury taste in his mouth. "Both of you are... perhaps more independent-minded than most."  
"Being able to think for yourself is a useful trait, in my opinion."  
"Hmm." Patton tapped the arm of the chair, knocking the wood with his ring absently. Roman looked up from the letter and over at him.  
"Wherever did you get a ring?"  
"Oh, it was a gift from Mum. Christmas, a couple of years ago, I think."  
"It's nice." Roman's gaze darted back to the letter.  
"How's Edward getting along these days, anyway?"  
Patton was eager to change the subject.  
"To be blunt, most of it is complaining. He wants money, though from what I gather he has rather... 'expensive' tastes." He sighed, setting the letter down and placing his hand on his forehead. "It's awfully hard to read. Did you know he has nicknames for almost everyone in the family."  
"Does he?"  
"Mhm. They sound innocent enough, but he's hardly one for, should I say...?" He grasped for the right word, lips moving incoherently. "Politeness." Roman decided with a shrug. "Do you have a light?"  
"Not on me, no." Patton said.  
"Just as well. Had one on me anyway." Roman took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, picking one out and putting it in his mouth as he fished around for a lighter, cupping his hands around it as it made a small flame and lit the cigarette. He took a flat drag and stared at the smoke disappating in the window light.  
"I don't know why you use those awful things."  
"Everyone uses them, Pat. Haven't we been over this?"  
"Yes, but I don't see why you'd like them. They're bitter and the scent gets everywhere. Everything smells like smoke and there's ash all over the tables."  
"Come off it, Patton. It's like spirits; you have a brandy every once in a while, don't you?"  
"Rarely, and I don't make a habit of it." There was a silence, Patton sighing. "I'm sorry about earlier."  
"Don't be, it doesn't matter."  
"Roman, are you drunk?"  
"What?"  
"You get sad when you're drunk."  
"I only had a little." He said guiltily. "Besides, not enough to get drunk. Just a headache."  
"Should I ask for some water or tea?"  
"I suppose." He took another drag, with a slight cough. "Anyway, you were saying?" Roman asked as Patton got up and walked to the door.  
"I said I was sorry about earlier. The argument at breakfast."  
"Oh, that. Yes, it's fine. On me."  
Patton opened the door and asked a suited man to bring in some tea, turning to sit back down.  
"Mr. DeWitt is a good friend, is all."  
"So I hear." Roman glanced dismissively at the letter on the table. "I suppose it would be rude if me to dismiss him so quickly, hm?"  
"Perhaps, I won't weigh in." A knock came at the door.  
"Enter."  
"Your Highnesses." The man came in with a tea-tray and whutetowel draped over his arm, attempting simultaneously to not to bow and not spill the tray's contents. He set it down on the end table. And bowed again, properly.  
"That will be all, for now." Patton said.  
"As you wish, my Princes." The man left, closing the door behind him.  
"Patton, it's terribly boring here, with everyone at Sandringham and all."  
"Sometimes." He took a sip of tea.  
"Let's go somewhere soon! You and I and father, when it gets cold."  
"Where?"  
"I was thinking we could go boating in Malta, or some such place. I don't care, long as it's not so goddamn cold all the time." The two laughed.


End file.
